Unrequited
by insaneprincess
Summary: For the 100 pairing challenge on HPFC. 10 chapters, 10 pairings, 10 moments of unrequited love. Currently: Ariana/Gellert. "Everything is white here and everyone is sad, in the place where she watches him."
1. RomildaHarry

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, sadly.

A/n: New story! Well, this is for the 100 pairings challenge on HPFC, with ten pairings of Unrequited Love. So, that's what this is about. 10 chapters, 10 pairings, 10 moments of unrequited love.

So, enjoy, and reviews are greatly appreciated :)

_1. Romilda/Harry._

She knew, of course.

Even he himself hadn't noticed it. He was that blind to his emotions. But she knew. It was right in front of her.

At first, she had been positive it was Hermione he was interested in. They were best friends, after all. They were always together. They talked about everything, and they understood each other. She truly thought it would be Hermione.

But she caught on pretty quickly.

It was the way that Ron looked at her, that told her Harry couldn't love Hermione. He couldn't, because his best friend adored her.

And then, it was the way those handsome green eyes always stayed locked on a certain redheaded girl.

Oh yes, she knew.

But knowing it didn't make it hurt any less.

It still hurt like hell.

Because, there she was, the happy little redhead. Dating the handsome artist, quite a catch in himself. There she was, with the world's hero absolutely in love with her.

And she was totally oblivious to it.

She dated lots of guys. She was happy and carefree. She once used to love that green-eyed hero, but was over it. And it seemed as soon as she'd let go of him, he'd chosen to hold onto her.

And it was painful as hell.

Because there was always jealousy in his eyes. Because he looked at her like she was everything, while trying to convince himself that she was not.

Because she was just some girl, but he loved her. He loved her.

And here she was, in love with him. And she was beautiful, and out-going, and wanted him, and he avoided her. He was nice, but in a politely distant manner, which she hated. She hated it, because that red-haired girl could talk to him easily, and make him laugh, and give him that dizzy look, and she could only give him the look like he wanted to get away from her.

And that was why she dropped the glass she was holding when, after that Quidditch match, he went right to that redheaded girl, and kissed her.

She dropped the glass because it hurt, like hell. She dropped the glass because he looked so goddamn happy when he pulled away from her. She dropped the glass because the redheaded girl glowed when they broke for air, and she realized that girl had always loved him.

But mostly, she dropped the glass because it looked right. It looked perfect. They looked like they were meant to be in each other's arms, and she knew she could never screw that up.

And that was what hurt the most. Knowing that she would give up her own happiness for him to be with the girl he really loved.

(Because she knows, this is the one thing in life that could make her do something selfless.)


	2. RemusLily

**Dislaimer: **I shall disclaim.

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_2. Remus/Lily._

He held his breath.

He didn't mean to, it just happened.

It felt… awkward. He felt like a liar, wishing James the best of luck. He felt like a faker. And he didn't want to be. But he couldn't help it.

James rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "You ready man?" Sirius asked eagerly.

"Of course," James laughed. "She loves me. She just acts like she doesn't."

Remus chewed on his lip. He wanted to be encouraging. He really did. He wanted to want this for James.

But he couldn't.

Because she wasn't James' type. She wasn't.

She was intelligent, something James didn't understand. She was often in the library. He saw her there all the time, bent over a pile of six or seven books, crimson hair turning a kind of gold in the brilliant sunshine.

And, over those golden afternoons, he had fallen in love with her.

And he almost knew that he shouldn't be worried, because she always said no. And each time she did, it gave him a piece of hope.

And that made him feel guilty, because he was supposed to want this for James. James had always wanted her first.

And he honoured the way James cared about her. Because, honestly, James had changed for her. He had stopped hexing Severus. He had started being kind… almost charming.

For her.

And he admired that, he did. He wasn't good enough for her, anyway, and so, if James would learn kindness, for her, well, he respected that. And he understood.

"Remus?"

He looked up, startled out of his train of thought. He had been spacing out he realized, something not entirely uncommon.

"Yeah, um, James. Good luck."

James seemed to pause for a moment, and examine the look on his face, looking confused for a moment.

"You mean that, right?"

He swallowed once, hard.

"Yeah, of course."

James looked at him for another moment, considering, but nodded.

"Alright," he said. "Alright."

And with a self-assured smile, he turned towards the redhead across the field, and began walking towards her.

And Remus watched them. He watched as James stuffed his hands into his pockets, and nervously asked her. And he watched, as a thoughtful look came onto her face. And he watched, a little brokenly, as a smile crossed her face, and slowly, she nodded.

He knew, sooner or later, she'd say yes. And he knew he'd do nothing about it. Because, even though he was a Gryffindor, he'd never had the courage to ask her.

Sirius sighed, as he sat down beside him.

"It'll be okay," he muttered. "It's not like they're getting married."

(Three years later, when he gets the wedding invitation, he doesn't know whether to laugh or cry.

He does both.)


	3. CharlieTonks

Disclaimer: Not mine.

So, this is about twice as long as all the others, but I really like this one, nonetheless, and I hope you do too. Please read and review, and I hope you enjoy it :)

_3. Charlie/Tonks._

They always come back to here.

It's not _their _place, or anything, but it's where they go. It's not a tree or a river or a bridge. It's not romantic or beautiful. It's a grimy table at the back of a Muggle diner.

They serve some alright coffee, and maybe that's why they come here, but he knows that's not it.

He also knows she doesn't want to be there, with him. He feels bad. He almost feels sorry. But he can't do that.

All he's offered her is the truth. It's not so hard.

It's been a long time since then. Maybe that's why they can't fit into the old routines. But that's not it. It's more like the old routines don't fit them. And though they go through the motions, it will never really fit again.

She sits in front of him, still as a stone. Which, for her, is very unexpected. She seems hard in front of him, indifferent. Cold. She's put up her barriers this time. She's ready for an attack.

It's surprising, watching her. It's been a few years, and he can tell she hasn't really changed. But her attitude towards him has changed, and that changes everything.

She looks at the coffee cup, almost as if surprised it's sitting there. He knows she doesn't like being back here. Maybe they should have picked somewhere more public. Maybe this is his fault.

They haven't spoken yet. He's fine with that. He doesn't know what to say.

But she doesn't like silence, he knows. He knows a little too much about her. He's memorized her over the years. He knows every detail. Each detail hurts him a little more. Each detail is a scar.

She picks up the coffee cup, gulps a drink of the burning liquid. This is new. She never drank it black before; she drank it filled with cream.

She's different now, he tells himself. She's different.

She is, and she isn't. She's as blunt as ever, as brave as always. "Charlie," she says, finally, sick of the tension.

"Dora," he returns easily.

Her eyes narrow, and he misses the almost unnoticeable shiver that runs through her. "Tonks," she says. "Everyone calls me Tonks now."

And he knows that_. _Everyone, she says. _Everyone._

But that's a lie.

He had hoped to postpone this moment until later in this coffee 'date', but he can't really do that. He's too… well, he doesn't know the word for it. She alters him like this.

"Not everyone," he says.

She chews on her lip. "Let's not do this."

"Do what, _Tonks_? Bring up the obvious part that we're both trying to ignore? I can't not do that. _I can't_."

"You can't decide my life for me, either, Charlie," she says fiercely. "You can't choose how I am, or who I'm with. _You can't._"

He looks at her, fiery, and hard, and honest, and he knows she means it. He knows he shouldn't be upset.

But he still is.

"You hated me for it," he mutters "You tried to forget me, and don't say you didn't. You pretended that, because I left, I'd never even existed."

She throws her head in her hands, collapsing a little. He doesn't want to hurt her, but maybe he has to.

"Do you know how that destroyed me?" she whispers. "Don't you get it Charlie? My god, I know it hurt you, caring about me, while I was so sure we were just the best of friends… relying on each other, always, through Hogwarts. But can you imagine how it hurt me? Why, all the times I'd gone to you, and told you about the guys I liked. And how you lied about liking Melissa Campbell. It hurt like _hell_, Charlie. God, I think it was worse rejecting you, hurting my very best friend, than being rejected. I know it's unfair of me to compare that, but can't you see why I wanted… why I _needed_ to forget?"

He stirs the coffee. He can't look at her.

"And it's been years," she says quietly. "But I can't forget it either, of course. I feel awful, still, you know. And then… you came back. And at first, I was so happy. I was dying to see you again… I had so much to tell you…"

She's holding back tears. He has never seen her cry. She has never seemed so beautiful, so reckless.

"And then I remembered," she says, regretfully. "I remembered that it wouldn't be like that. It would be all changed, by the fact that I couldn't love you in the way that you loved me. I hated myself for that. I hated myself Charlie, for loving him, and not you."

She dares to look at him. There are tear stains on her cheeks. Her hair is not pink, it is black.

"And I can't sit here," she says, full on crying now. "I can't pretend Charlie, because I hate faking it. I won't do that. I'm sorry, really, I am. But I can't do this."

She gets up, leaving the black coffee on the table, the mug almost full, the steam still rolling off it gracefully. Her footsteps are light, melodic, in the strides she takes away from him.

"Wait," he says, jumping up. He isn't thinking anymore.

She turns, surprised by how close he is. "What?"

"Why him?"

Her face crumples a little, knowing exactly what he means. Why love the man who is too afraid to love her, when the one who is brave enough is right in front of her?

"Oh Charlie," she whispers. She moves one hand to his face, hesitantly, and wipes away a tear. He has not realized, until this point, that he is crying.

"You can't help who you fall for," she whispers brokenly. Quietly, beautifully, she presses the teardrop on her finger onto her lips.

(At the funeral, he remembers her words. When he stands up to make his speech, he makes sure to call her Tonks.)


	4. ArianaGellert

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter in any way.

A/n: So, I haven't been on ffnet, since... the summer? And that's a long time, and I'm sorry, but school has been crazy, and life has been crazy. And it's almost a new year. And here's a chapter. A very strange pairing, but I really like it now,... sad and different. This is a sorrowful look at unrequited love. Enjoy, and reviews are love.

_4. Ariana/Gellert._

Everything is white here and everyone is sad, in the place where she watches him.

Everything has always been white here, ever since she got here, not very long ago. The walls are white, and they aren't exactly like walls, and the sky is white, even though it's not exactly a sky, and her mother's face was white, very white, when she first got here.

And she received a lovely white robe, and since then, she's been sitting here, watching him.

She remembers all of it.

He was magnificent, from the very beginning. The first day she met him, when he was over, talking with Albus – and that was all they ever seemed to do, talk; they said they were 'planning' – he had seemed so handsome and confident and sure of himself. And she was young and innocent and very, very naïve.

She doesn't think she is naïve anymore. Not even when her mother gives her those grief-stricken, pitying looks.

He was always around Albus. He didn't care about her. She knew that. It didn't seem to matter.

He was always hurting her. She doesn't remember a time when he made her happy, when there was anything to justify such feelings for him, but she does remember the cold glances that pierced through her like a knife, the ignorance of her entirely, the way he never seemed to speak to her directly, leaving her alone and empty. Hours later, they would find her howling, but they never understood why. They blamed it on her madness, and sometimes she did too. She certainly was mad.

And still, she watches him.

She remembers that day, not so long ago, when they were screaming, and the lights were flashing, and there was chaos, and she went out to stop them. She remembers his very fierce eyes when the light hit her, because that was the last thing she saw before waking up in this white place.

When she awoke, her mother was here, crying. And she didn't understand why she was crying, when they were in a lovely white place, that had no screaming or flashing lights or chaos. And her mother, who'd just disappeared one day, months before, was here and okay, and everything was fine.

And when she got here, her mother held her very tightly, and cried into the top of her head, heavy, salty tears. And she cursed, and whispered, "That boy was hell on earth the minute he arrived, and look what he's done now." And she wanted to argue that really, it wasn't just him, it was Albus and Aberforth too, but her mother didn't look perfectly okay, so she didn't say anything, and just let her blame him.

Albus and Aberforth aren't here, but she can see them, if she sits in the one room, but mostly she doesn't want to see them, she wants to see him.

And she watches him. And she doesn't feel so mad anymore. And her mother cries often, and is gone the rest of the time. And she watches him leave her brothers and her neighbourhood, and her brothers distance themselves from each other.

And life goes on. Not for her. But for him.

(Because he's not in the white place where everyone is sad.)


End file.
